


How Do You Tell Someone You Want To Die

by CybertronianBeing



Series: Small Volleydorks Mix #2 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crying, Established Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Karasuno, Karasuno Kids, Kid!Kinnoshita, Kid!Narita, M/M, Men Crying, One Shot, Sad, Sawamura Daichi in Love, There's A Tag For That, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, Why Not Just Be Sad, kid!Ennoshita, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CybertronianBeing/pseuds/CybertronianBeing
Summary: Oh, it's you that I lie with,as the atom bomb drops in.Yes, it's you I welcome death with,as the world caves in.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Series: Small Volleydorks Mix #2 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798276
Kudos: 15





	How Do You Tell Someone You Want To Die

**Author's Note:**

> ****!!!!!Trigger warnings for non-graphic mild self-harm, mild suicidal references and thoughts, as well as for mild depictions of an accident!!!!!***

1:05, July 25;  
Precisely 11 hours and forty-five minutes before Koushi Sugawara and Sawamura Daichi are conjoined by law in holy matrimony with slick white tuxedos with the most beautiful themes;  
All was beautiful.

Was that paint, the red car paint? Does red paint rub off on the sidewalk like that? Did the car even skid like that? 

Do cars leave a breadcrumb trail of glass and random pieces all the way to where it escapes the asphalt and seeks the ditch nearby? The red pai—dear Asahi please tell that isn’t a limb, please oh my g—that is. 

The car wasn’t red. 

It’s not paint. 

He’s not alive. 

Neither is his husband. Only married for a year. Newlyweds for the vida’s, even their flowers of death choked by the thorns. Stolen by a distracted driver and the late hour, gas running near empty but full enough to ignite a fire deep enough to steal away the evidence of true life. 

Inferno that would lap their blood and steal away even their wedding rings and hearts of gold. 

“Hey, you can go home, isn’t it past your shift end anyway? Clock out, I won’t pay you overtime on the night of your wedding, Sawamura,” Yeah, perhaps Daichi’s supervisor wouldn't pay overtime, but that didn’t matter too much. Pay was pay, he just needed assurance that the coincidence he didn’t believe in was just that, what he didn’t believe it.

Only...moments earlier had he been on the phone with him Takeda was talking, and then he wasn’t. The receiver paused and then shot to static, then ended the call much more gracefully. Phones, especially the ones Ittetsu refused to trade in for a more functional, tended to do that, because that was that and whatever. Phones died, they lost connection. He probably didn’t have the heart to wake his husband up, if he was asleep, to call with the other. 

Stuff happens. 

He didn’t like to be a worrier and on the night of his wedding, no less, he didn’t even want his fiance to be stressed about the world. The following daybreak was going to be great, he just knew it. Everything would be iconic, everyone was coming, he would be able to make the entire thing official to the world and Koushi Sugawara would be no more and it would be Koushi Daichi.

Asahi, how he loved the way that rolled off his tongue every single time he said it. A blush would stain his sugar’s face so red every single time he called him that, flaunting the future. Whatever future a twisted fate held, he wouldn’t be too mad. If it was to adopt some stupid number of kids to call his own, so be it. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

Physically, it wouldn’t be possible. Sorry not sorry. It wasn’t gonna happen. 

And then it went to voicemail when he called back. Five minutes until his shift was finally supposed to end, it went to voicemail. Two minutes. Voicemail. Two minutes PAST his shift. You guessed it. 

...and then a dispatcher reported a deadly motor accident involving a smaller blue sedan. The caller who called in said it had writing on the side, probably used for a small business. 

Again, he didn’t like to worry himself sick, his future husband had that covered for the entire country of Japan. But, that sounded awfully like his former coaches. But, sure, it all smelled fishy but that couldnt’ve been them. 

“Blue sedan, reported to have flipped multiple times and then landed upside down in the ditch on the east side after crossing into oncoming traffic. Driver estimated to either have been distracted or fell asleep at the wheel.”  
Takeda was too much of a careful driver, he’s too responsible to have done something so silly or careless. It’s impossible for that to even be a thing or possibility for them, they’re too careful and were super close to their destination. It’s not possible for them to—

The radio chattered at him, and his hand immediately twisted the knob, ears craning to listen for any new information. Sometimes the paramedic line would leak just a bit, and he’d get the details he craved. “...Confirmed five males, both adults pronounced in critical condition at best condition. The vehicle is tipped upside down, three children located in the backseat, all three pronounced either unresponsive, in very critical condition or deceased at the scene by first responders. Vehicle reading.”

Sounds way too much. Way too much. Too close. Not a fan.

Sawa’ leaned in, swerving a bit, but couldn’t catch it, “What, what does it read?!” 

But, upon realizing that knowing what it said wouldn’t help him get there any faster, he resolved to merely wait and speed there first. 

Denial and some self-preservation tactic told him that. That he didn’t need to know, didn’t WANT to know. Need to know basis? Don’t.

Upon arrival, his supervisor was surprisingly quick to meet him briskly farther than halfway to the crash site. Uncharacteristically fast, not a good sign. Quick speech: “We’ve got it covered, go home,” a bad sign. 

“I need to see who was in that car, sir. All due respect, I do. I will not go home until I know.” 

“Sawamura—” 

“Sir, allow me to pass.”

“Sawamura, whoever’s in that car isn’t with us anymore.” 

“Do you have their identifications?”

“You know I’m legally allowed to lie to you.”

“But do you have the heart to?”

“Sawamura, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“By forming the words, sir.”

“It’s your high school coaches and their three sons. I recognize their company name on the side of the vehicle from the picture in your office and the driver’s driver’s license reads Ittetsu Ukai, whom you’ve spoken to me about before.”

“I’m going to go home.”

“Call my mobile when you do.”

“A text will have to do.” 

“Fine by me,” and unsure of what else to tack on to someone who just lost his high school coaches and their sons, he resolved for a: “take care of yourself, soldier.”

The car jostled beneath him as he sank into the seat, feeling too soft that what’s allowed. Some spike of undeserving-ness swallowed him whole, making him feel like he should be burning alive or covered and put to death by a thousand cuts. 

Fumbling with the emergency brake handle, the jagged edge sliced his thumb multiple times, but he kept sliding the pad across the sharp over and over again, smiling to himself, and then laughing. Laughing at the pain in his thump and the irony of it all and the fact that the situation was even happening in the first place. Giggling like a child at all the stupid memories he had of volleyball as an ungrateful teenager who only saw volleyball as some opportunity to get big and bad and make it to the top. 

Genuinely, his mind deemed it funny as his blood dripped into the center console and his shredded finger stung, but that felt as though it could act as some positive reaffirmation that he could still feel something even if that something was physical pain. 

The rest of him felt static, tarry, thickly swimmingly. He couldn’t flit his fins, he couldn’t move.  
Except for driving home, he’d move to drive home. That’s all. 

Minutes later, he sat in the driveway with the car running and the headlights blaring but the radio silent, the radio mic off, the dead silence accompanying some breakdown his body wasn’t hydrated enough to have. 

How do you tell someone you want to die? His fingers took turns messing with the jagged parking brake edge until that one hurt so bad he’d have to use a different one. He sat there for god knows how long, tearing up his hand until he couldn’t take much more of the silence and the blood and the rawness. 

Not the rawness of his skin. Perhaps it was of heart.

How does one merely forgive themselves for allowing such a thing to happen? He was the one distracting Ittetsu while he drove, under the impression he was helping the latter stay awake through the tiring evening. Some bluff his former coach used to blanket that he was exhausted and had been traveling all day with his three children, or four if his husband counted with that as well. 

He distracted him, or allowed him to continue driving while his eyelids were falling closed. He kept talking fondly while the other struggled to protect the five souls on board. God—did he even deserve to live after he single handedly killed all five of them? 

The passenger side opened slightly to keep from startling him, but not even Gabriel the angel himself could scare Sawamura. Not even the devil himself. Speak of the devil, “sweetheart, you’ve just been sitting out here for the past fifteen minutes, what’s going on?” He leaned in, “Hey, your hand!! Quit that, Sawamura! Turn off the car and get out and explain what’s going on.” 

Being defiant wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he did and shuffled over towards Koushi, “Hey, your new shoes...okay, what’s going on? Tough night?”

A kiss graced Sugawara’s forehead, and he was engulfed in a hug. A I-really-need-a-recharge hug, and they melted into it for awhile. It was okay. For a moment. 

Okay? What could that mean?

Suga migrated towards the house, for fear his husband would be eaten alive by bloodthirsty bugs and for fear of his hand being exposed to the nasty elements. Silently, he sat his husband on the shut toilet seat and fetched for the med kit they kept underneath the kitchen sink. “Do you have something you need to tell me?

A moment of silence, “I found something out today.”

“Oh?” He found the wrap and peroxide, “What did you find out?” 

Soaking in a load of peroxide, a cotton ball weighed Sugawara’s hand as he dabbed Daichi’s open palm, but the sarcasm paused and in lieu, a tense silence replaced. Only interrupted seldom by the shaky fan from the living room next door.

“There was a really bad accident and it happened with the Ukai’s.” 

An even deeper silence. A thinking silence. A wandering silence. Suga wanted to ask but didn’t know if he wanted to have a full understanding of the answer. Perhaps ignorance of the truth would provide more bliss than possessing the knowledge of a lie made up of his own hopes and dreams. Yet, that would be irresponsible of he, especially considering he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew. 

“All five of them?”

“Ittetsu, Keishin, Chikara, Hisashi, and Kazuhito.”

“Are they?”

Sawamura nodded. Wrap ripped and scissors cut. The rest of the way, his hand was doctored up to the best of Koushi’s ability, despite his newly shaken hands. When the last piece was taped down, a gentle kiss was planted in the middle of the officer’s hand and a small smile tugged at the gray-haired former setter’s thin and tight lips, “Quit hurting yourself, beautiful soul,” He said quietly,, his voice choking in his throat, his pointed finger and middle finger walking up the middle of his fiance’s chest cavity, pausing to punctuate ‘soul’ gently. 

Leaving without a word but with a sniffle, he left all the supplies he drug out with no intent to replace them. Rather, a towel and cleaner were found, and his brain decided to obsess on cleaning and then sanding that plastic, rather than thinking anything about anything else. His body felt tired and feelings repressed, and for times he felt so dead he’d have to stop doing anything so his fuzzy mind would clear. 

The cleaner wasn’t deemed all that necessary, for his body-made saline did the trick just fine, and tear ducts made it perfect a-plenty. Cleaning that car surely would waste the night away better than alcohol would, but it wasn’t like they had any of that anyway. But the initial thought was still tempting to go find some, nonetheless. Therefore, to curb the temptation, he would sand, he would clean. 

Sand, clean, and cry, of course. That was merely the natural reaction. In fiction, or all of the cringe-worthy pieces, anyway, everyone always just burst into tears. Their grief began the moment they entered any knowledge at all. He, too, reacted that way. 

But, that was valid to an extent, anyway. Often it made him feel weak and unnecessary but if it was preventable, it would be. No doubt about it. 

“Don’t obsess over my car, sugar.”

“Not obsessing.”

“Do you know how long you’ve been out here?”

“Fifthteen minutes?” 

“Almost an hour. Get out,” Damn, why’d he have to sound so rough and cold? He reached inside and grabbed him by the shoulders and gently drug him out and forced him inside, “You can’t just hide.” 

“Well what would you rather me do?”

“Cope in a healthier way. Come here,” He took the towel, the sanding block, the cleaner, then his eyes, then his hands. These things he took slid on the table and then fell to the flood, but they’d maybe get picked up later, and sat down on the couch with him and held him ,and Suga held him back. Their bodies pressed so close together, their warmth recharged the other’s batteries, as they both used that newfound energy to lose tears again. One, then many,. 

And then a whole lot from both. 

Until they were tired. 

And they fell asleep. 

Feasibly, seven of them were merely asleep. None of those were actually too far gone. 

None of them were characteristically heavy sleepers in grief, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey, hope i didn't hurt you too bad :) this was mostly a vent to get some emotions out bc lately emotions have felt so repressed lately. thanks for reading this late-night garbage. not sure if this is going to be canon for our kid AU, but if it's not, this is just a story in our kid!AU universe. Cool? Cool. thanks for sticking around. didn't mean to butcher anything or write anything too garbage, and if it is, keep it to yourself pls. your opinion is legendary and valid but if you're gonna be hateful, pls don't. not like i could cry about it, but thanks anyway. its barely proofread bc motivation be at an all time low. btw i love you all as always, take care and comment if you need someone to talk to. 
> 
> Dedication to my crush and to my mother, iwa bc idk where I'd be without them :)


End file.
